Four Makes an Army
by Thinkmaster
Summary: Ok, 1st real chapter is up, and after one day! It has a little more action than before, but i promise a lot more next chapter. Please review, i'm begging you!
1. Prolouge

Prologue

"So we need _another_ one! We're low on operatives as it is!" "Yes, sir, I know. But we have another coming in soon, fresh out of Ireland. Used to be in the SAS, but left to join the Irish Liberation Front. Then he heard about us, and decided to join." Two people walked down the main hallway at Executive Operations headquarters in Sydney, Australia. The floor was polished to such a sheen that Fiona Taylor, an Agent Runner of only 1 year seniority at ExOps., could distinctly see her reflection in the granite tile. Her boss, an insanely rich man without a name or face (hidden by a full head mask), walked beside her, listening to yet another hitch in the North Korean job.

"Well could you at least tell me why we need another man in there?" his voice, though hidden by a voice masking device in his lapel pin (at least that's where she _thought _it was, the device itself was hidden as well,) could still show emotion. Right now, it conveyed a sense of fury and anger, one that could unseat Fiona from her ludicrous job at ExOps."Sir, the team is embedded in downtown Pyongyang. They tried to set up a job with the Chinese, but they double crossed them and are now trying, unsuccessfully, to break into the building." "Well Jesus Christ, why don't the Chinese just bomb them to hell?" "Our team has with them intel on the location of the Ace of Clubs. They also have a high ranking Chinese officer in custody. The Chinese want both intact. So far our team is holding them off, thanks to some air strikes and interventions by the Russian Mafia. But they can't stay there forever." "How long can they hold out?" "At least a few more days. Then the fatigue will set in, and they won't be able to handle it."

Her boss covered his eyes with his hand and sighed, plopping down into the leather chair of his massive office as they walked in. Fiona stood in front of his polished walnut desk, strangely devoid of the usual legal hogwash and other paperwork that cluttered other offices in the spacious building. "Listen, just send the kid in." "But sir, he's-" "Just send him in!" Fiona stammered a short reply, then muttered indistinguishably to herself as she left the room, to fetch the newcomer.

_ Just keep your eyes on the prize, you can pull this off. Just think: 100 million dollars, 100 million!_the masked manbegan to smile and lean back in his chair at the thought of the bounty on General Song. _And that's only for that one bounty! Think of what his underlings will all fetch..._"Sir?" Fiona had returned, and was now poking her head through the doorway. "Yeah?" "He's here." Fiona entered, followed by a tall, well dressed man in a blue suit and matching tie. He was in his 30's, still young, and with him he possessed an aurora of coldness. Indeed, the room itself seemed to be chilled simply due to his presence. But it was not just his demeanor that brought on this change of atmosphere, but his appearance as well. His skin was death white, as was his hair, and his eyes hid behind a pair of carefully constructed Italian sunglasses, with a platinum frame. An albino.

"Sir, this is Jonathan Hayes, our newest recruit from Ireland. He passed the physical and vehicular tests with high marks, and the strategic and intelligence tests with fling colors. Served for 7 years with the Irish Catholic Liberation Front, 6 with the British SAS, and most recently 5 years on his own as a bounty hunter and soldier for hire in America. He was recommended to us by Gregory Smith, our most recent retiree." The boss rubbed his chin with thought. "So, you're the new recruit, eh? Seems that you started a career in combat at a young age." Jonathan spoke with a light Irish accent, not as heavily influenced as the boss would've thought. "I joined the Catholic army at 15." "So you have a lot of combat experience besides your work here?" "Yes sir." "Do you know of the situation taking place in North Korea?"

_ So that's where I'm headed. But aren't there already agents in there? _"Yes sir. Will I be going there to support the other operatives in the region?" "Yes, in a way. I need a man with your talents to assist the other three agents we have in there. They are embedded in Pyongyang, and the building they have taken is under siege. We need a man on the outside to assist them. Miss Taylor here," He motioned to Fiona, standing beside Jonathan and awaiting orders, "will brief you on the way to the plane." "When do I leave?" "Immediately. But first, I need to speak with Miss Taylor privately on some small matters. Please, ready your gear, get dressed for combat and make your way to the runway." Jonathan, somewhat surprised by his immediate assignment, stammered a quick "Yessir"and left for his office.

"Fiona," the boss said after the door had closed, "we need to talk. Is this man qualified enough to make the cut?" Fiona sat down in one of the chairs perpendicular to the desk. "Yes, definitely. I told you of his test scores, are you-" But the boss cut her off. "What were the results of his mental examination?" Fiona began to sweat and stammer. "E-excuse me, what did you say?" "His mental exams, Fiona. Is he stable?" Fiona fell silent. She was afraid he would ask that. "Well," she took a deep breath.

"Jonathan Hayes suffers from a form of chronic depression caused by extreme loneliness. He can become inattentive, irritable, and sometimes seems to close out the world around him and enter a coma-like state of deep thought. This was brought around by the slaughter of his family by Protestants in Ireland, and deepened by the deaths of his entire "platoon", as I will call it, during the Catholic-Protestant conflict. That was when he realized what a worthless conflict it was, and left to join the SAS. After leaving it 6 years later, he almost committed suicide by jumping off London Bridge, but was revived by the Paramedics. He then delved into alcohol and drugs, especially heroin, until put into drug rehab. At one of his AA meetings, he met Gregory Smith who referred him to us."

The boss thought over this strange and terrible series of events, trying to decide whether or not Jonathan was safe. "Will this be a liability?" "No, probably not. Nillson is psychotic, and yet he seems at least sane enough to tell friend from foe. Jonathan is stable enough." "Good, get a jet ready on Runway 2. Oh, and Fiona?" he said just as she was opening the door to leave. "If you don't fix this problem, I'll have your head on a pike."

"Ah...yes sir, i'll do my best." She silently cursed as she closed the door.


	2. Insertion

Chapter 1: Insertion

A whole plethora of thoughts and images ran through Jonathan Hayes' damaged mind as he ran out onto Runway 2. The thought of money, his first job, the Chinese, how he'd possibly survive in such a warzone.

The tortured screams of his family.

Why did he always focus on that one sound, why couldn't he let go? It had been more than 15 years since that event, and yet he remained unable to detatch himself. If this continued, he'd go mad. But wait, wasn't he already? Does a mad man know when he's gone insane? Or does he simply blow it off as a mistake, or does everyone have his problem?

_No, it's you. It's only you, and you'll never go back to how it was._ Jonathan sighed. The sinister voice inside his head he knew now to be only an aberration of the mind, his thoughts manifested into voice. But the word "schizophrenia" still sent shivers down his spine, a reminder of his past.

"Hello? Jonathan?" Jonathan, mildly peeved by this interruption in his train of thought, turned to see Fiona walking torwards him. "Lucky I caught you, I almost forgot to give you this." Fiona extended her hand, in which was some kind of computer device, somewhat bigger than a Palm Pilot. "This is your new PDA, your only link to the outside world. It has Internet access, satellite communications and television, email, and many other useful tasks. And this headset," she handed a small headset to Jonathan, not more than a wire with a microphone and an earpiece, is how you will communicate with me in the field.

"Oh, so you're the agent runner?" Fiona nodded. "Yes, I'll have hundreds of satellites and hacked communications centers at my command, I'll be watching you. So don't blow it. And why haven't you changed yet?" "What, do you wanna look?" Fiona blushed. For an albino, and one with such a mental instability, Jonathan wasn't that bad looking. "What? No, of course not. But you'll be dropping in via HALO jump, I think it would be best that you are properly equipped." Jonathan sighed. "Listen, I'll have plenty of time to change on the plane. That is unless, of course," He smiled as he got on the jet, looking back at Fiona, "You're watching." With this, he closed the door.

Six hours later, Jonathan was sitting in the cargo bay of a plane, dressed in his gear. Instead of the suit and tie he had been wearing before, he was now dressed in a leather jacket, baggy, black and grey camo pants, steel tipped army boots and fingerless gloves, for a good grip on whatever weapon he supposed he'd find there. His hair was still in that oh-so-messy-it's-  
perfect look, which seemed to fit him very well. On his back was a small sack, holding his parachute.

Even with the impending combat just ahead of him, he was still bored to death. All he had with him was his PDA, his Mp3 player and his headset, which he used to chat with Fiona from time to time. The two, not knowing each other, had obviously started off with talks about each other's pasts, and since then had moved on to family, the army, who Fiona had recently worked for, Australia, North Korea, the combat ahead, and the current situation that lay before him.

"Is there anything that you'd like me to do once I drop in? I see countless possibilities here." Fiona, who had been typing codes and a few last encryptions into their comm link, wasn't paying attention. "Oh, I'm sorry, what?" "I said is there anything specific that you'd like me to do once I drop in? Should I visit one of the local power brokers first, should I meet with the Russian Mafia, should I just head on in there, or whatever?" "Well, this is entirely up to you, but I'd visit the Mafia first. They're situated in East Pyongyang, should be pretty easy to find. They run a nightclub there, as a front, and a nearby garage. The leader is one Sergei Grishkin, and might I say he's quite young for a Mafia godfather. His assistant is an old 'business partner' of Nillson's, Josef Yurinov. Ex-KGB, very efficient. You should have no problem with them if you say you were sent by ExOps."

"Hello, this is Comet 3. We're approaching the drop zone." After securing his helmet, Jonathan neared the door, open and waiting for him to leap into the cloudy night sky, the air passing by making it seem like the roaring maw of some mythical beast. The light turned green. _Well, this is it, now or never._ You can't think of anything better to say? _No, not really._ Jonathan smiled, his inner voice always had something funny to say, even before it stopped trying to drive him to insanity. But then again, he already was insane. Wasn't he?

"Hey, keep your head down out there." "What, you worried about me, Fiona?" "I'm worried about our payday." With this, Jonathan jumped.

Gone was the loud hum of the engines, replaced by the even louder roar of the wind passing by Jonathan's head at sub-sonic speeds. He was flying torwards the ground like a bullet, hurtling head over heels, the treetops rushing up to meet him. Wait, the trees! If his parachute hit them he would be trapped, torn up by enemy fire! Using his arms and legs to steer himself, he changed his course and instead rocketed torwards the beach head to his left. If he could land there he might just be able to-

Wait, what was that! To his north was a great city, probably Pyongyang, and one of the buildings was being hit by tank shells. That must be where his fellow operatives were holed up.

But he had to focus on the task at hand, not the billowing tower of acrid black smoke from the city. He was approaching the LZ quite quickly now, he had better pull the cord. He gripped the plastic handle of the ripcord and gave a hard tug, already expecting the sharp pull upwards and the loud "FOOM!_"_ that followed. He then landed gently on the beach, unhooking his chute as he did so. He was on his own.

"Hello? Jonathan, can you hear me?" Ok, maybe not. "Yeah, I'm fine. Everything working over there?" "Yes, I can see you now, on the southern beachhead near Nanking, a coastal city. The Mafia and the Chinese are struggling over it now, and they're at a stalemate. Perhaps you could help the Mafia?" But Jonathan was already jogging torwards the city.


End file.
